


A Long Way from Home

by Mariea



Category: The Saboteur
Genre: Alternate Universe - Nazi Germany, Comfort, F/F, France (Country), Lesbian Sex, Love/Hate, Video & Computer Games, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-08
Updated: 2014-11-08
Packaged: 2018-02-24 13:37:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2583323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mariea/pseuds/Mariea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the capitulation of France in a very different 1940s world, Veronique Rousseau is stricken with grief over the loss of country and family. Her comfort comes unexpectedly from a British agent she'd always been at odds with.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Long Way from Home

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first video game fanfic. Yay!

" **Merde**." The only word that could escape the French femme's lips. Her gaze fixated out the window, down to the rain-soaked streets of Paris; once a city of lights and love, now a city of war. Panzers rolling through the street, zeppelins scouring the skies, and the ever-present sound of the jackbooted invaders crunching their paths through the cobblestoned streets of France's once-proud capital.

Veronique recoiled from the window in anguish, leaning back against it and slamming the backside of her fist against the wall. Tears streamed down her tanned cheeks, dreaming to the grimy wooden floor and leaving amber stains upon its surface. Such old accommodations weren't pleasant by any means, but the Nazis didn't usually come around the poorer neighborhoods. Poverty and nationalism under a foreign boot was a fairly volatile combination, of course. However, none of this came to Veronique's mind. Her country gone, home destroyed, but it was the death of her brother Jules that struck her with the most grief. She never even got the chance to say goodbye to him before he was gunned down in cold blood.

Her clasped her hands over her eyes and shut them tightly, quietly sobbing as she slid down against the window and then the wall, before sitting into it. It seemed she was lost in thought for what could've been half an hour before a knock arrived at her room door. She looked up, and worry overcame her, and she feared the worst. She slid up to her feet, snaking her back against the wall. She reached to an end table next to the windowsill, taking a small, sharpened letter opener from it; not too deadly, but a really bleedy thing in the right hands and in a moment of desperation.

A light rapping on the door came again as Veronique stepped slowly to its frame. She clasped the rusted doorknob and turned it slowly, opening it even slower, but she was met with a sight perhaps worse than a Nazi patrol.

"Well, hello there Veronique," the sultry, distinctly English voice chimed. A blonde woman stood at the door, dressed in a brown jumpsuit, hair in a tie, which her hands were fiddling with, "Hope I'm not intruding on you, love."

The voice seemed stuffed with passive-aggressiveness, the typical tone of Skylar St. Claire, racer, lover, and spy, all in one package. Veronique let out an irritated sigh. "What do you want, huh? Your little boyfriend Sean isn't here."

"What a shame, hmm? Well, I suppose you'll do just as well," Skylar gave an amused roll of the eyes, already attempting to push the creaking wooden door open. "Just thought I'd stop by and check how things are going for my friends in this lovely dictatorship."

Veronique blocked the door from opening further with her foot, "I'm not in the mood for your shit, Skylar. Take it somewhere else."

"Oh, come on. I could get a warmer welcome from a Gestapo officer than from you!" Skylar gave a giggle, not budging from the doorway.

Irritation ran through Veronique's voice. "I'm sure you could. You've slept with half the German Army anyway."

Skylar's amused disposition faded ever so slightly, and she spoke no further. At length, if only to make this Britscher leave, Veronique stepped back and opened the door, cursing under her breath. "Come in then."

Skylar's smile returned and she strolled through into the room, leather boots echoing off the archaic floorboards. "About time you showed me some of your French  _hospitalité_ , no?" Skylar entered fully into the room, Veronique shutting the door behind her. _  
_

"Not like you're giving me much choice, now are you?" Veronique commented, leaning against the door with her arms crossed, facing Skylar, "Now, you claimed you were here for something important?"

"Don't put my words in my mouth, dear. I never said it was important, just... a little chat."

"Ah. And that's British for 'I came to fuck Sean',  _oui_?" Veronique quipped.

Skylar turned fully to face her after giving the room a lookover. "Mm, when you put it that way it sounds so very crass.. I'm your house guest though, am I not? An offer of a drink or at least a seat would be so polite."

"Yes. I'm sure it would," Veronique scoffed, looking over Skylar's shoulder and out the hotel window, back into the gloomy, rain-drenched skyline of Paris. Soaring planes overhead gave a stark reminder to the occupation it suffered from.

"I think you're just jealous," Skylar remarked absent-mindedly as she pulled up a wooden chair and planted herself upon it.

"Jealous?" Veronique's gaze snapped back to Skylar.

"Jealous. About myself and Sean."

"What an arrogant thing to think! What you and Sean do is none of my business," Veronique retorted without hesitation, though the sudden shade of crimson on her cheeks said more than her words.

Skylar's toothy smile grew wider, "My my, so defensive! You're too easy to tease, Veronique."

The Frenchwoman shot a glare to Skylar, "What the fuck is your problem?" she began to shout to her, walking forward from the door, "You bother me about Sean, you tease me to no end, you just keep showing up to torment me!"

Skylar's amusement turned to bemusement, sympathetically so, and she shook her head, "I'm only joking with you, you don't have to take me so seriously."

But Veronique continued, "No, you take nothing seriously at all! I've lost my brother, just days ago. Forced back into this awful, cramped city," she ranted, stomping back Skylar to the window, "forced to watch those Swastikas flying over the streets, forced to endure bombings and interrogations and the sight of my peoples blood bathing the cobblestones! I don't need your shit right now, I told you. But you just insist... you just  _insist_!" Veronique's voice went into a tremor, anger subsiding and stressful sorrow soon basking over her, her cheeks running damp with tears once more as she leaned her forehead into the window.

Skylar let out a sigh, and arose from her seat. She passed by it and walked to Veronique, remaining silent as she pondered what to say. She'd never seen the Frenchwoman like this, in this.. state of grief. They'd always picked at each other, which Skylar figured was in jest, but it seemed the opposite right now. "I'm sorry, about Jules," she whispered, after a lengthy pause of silence, "I can't imagine how you feel right now."

"You really can't. Losing my country, my family, all in a matter of weeks. Everything's gone to hell, and it isn't getting better for me," Veronique spoke over her shoulder after gulping down her tears.

"We've all lost something, Veronique. Everyone's lost something to the Germans in this War," Skylar whispered once more to her, her tone one of condolence, "but the important thing is not to let it crush our hopes. That's what their  _Führer_ wants. If we give up hope, then we've already lost," Skylar began gently rub at Veronique's shoulder, before she placed her other hand upon Veronique as well, giving her a gentle massage. _  
_

Veronique turned to face Skylar after a moment of muteness, before she gulped again, her tears steadily subsiding and Skylar's hands still comfortingly on her shoulders, "You think"--Veronique swallowed back a few more tears--"that we'll win? That things will get better?"

"I  _know_  they will," Skylar declared quietly, smiling warmly to Veronique.

The Frenchwoman returned the smile and remained in close tranquility with Skylar for what seemed like minutes, before she pushed herself up and forward on the tips of her shoes, touching her lips to Skylar's. Skylar responded favorably, and promptly pushed back, encasing their lips together in a delicate, yet undoubtedly passionate kiss. Her hands went from merely massaging Veronique to wrapping around her shoulders, pulling her in closely and tightly. Veronique too reached down and hoisted up Skylar's leg against her waist, pulling the Englisher as close to herself as she could, her tongue soon feverishly wrestling with Skylar'.

Skylar slid a hand around Veronique and began unbuttoning her blouse, whilst Veronique undid Skylar's hair tie and the zipper of her leather jumpsuit, before pulling it down to Skylar's forearms. With a few more "flicks of the wrist" from both women, they were near-totally bare, clothes piled up at their feet as they continued their smooching.

Skylar broke away, seemingly short of breath (and in the most pleasant possible way), taking deep breaths as she looked over Veronique's face. She traced a finger over her cheek. "God, it is true. French girls are so much better at kissing than the English ones," Skylar breathlessly giggled, to which Veronique gave her another light kiss on the lips in response.

"Mm, don't give me too much credit," Veronique looked back around the room whilst the sun set over the hills in the outskirts of the city skyline, giving the old and rundown compartment a blazing coat of sun rays, piercing through the overcast sky.

"After that exhausting little affair, I think we could use a nice place to lie down together," Skylar commented, "purely for resting purposes, of course," she added with a coy grin.

Veronique slipped around Skylar and grasped her hands, trailing backwards to the efficiency flat's small bed, right in the middle of the room. Upon reaching it Skylar pounced upon her, falling back atop Veronique upon the fairly comfy mattress. She immediately locked their lips back together in a fiery kiss, hands soon trailing over Veronique's bare breasts, the contours of which she rubbed and squeezed. Veronique looped her arms around Skylar's back, embracing her tightly. Sweet moans escaped Veronique's lips and were muffled by their kiss, though it was soon broken as the Englisher planted kisses down Veronique's neck, upper chest, then to her breasts, rolling her tongue over one of Veronique's perked-up nips, before taking it in her lips and giving it a quick suckle.

Veronique dug her nails into Skylar's back and wrapped her legs around her lower waist as Skylar continued to toy with her sensitive buds, and to Veronique's surprise, she soon felt the cool touch of Skylar's finger trail down her heated body, nearing her groin. Veronique had never been with a woman, and had never even thought of being with Skylar, but she felt oddly comfortable, and definitely pleasured. Skylar's hand soon disappeared underneath Veronique's frilly black knickers, and down to the petals of her moist  _fleur-de-lis_. Her fingers quickly thrust inward, and Veronique arched back against the mattress with a cry of pleasure.

The deft Englisher hooked her fingers and pressed them further in, rubbing every bit of Veronique's inner walls that she could reach, whilst clenching her teeth around Veronique's puffed-up nipple. " _Mon dieu_ , don't stop!" Veronique panted.

Skylar certainly listened, and began to move her fingers about even more quickly and thoroughly, striking every sensitive nerve the prudish Frenchwoman possessed, hand soon slick and coated with her juices. With only a little more effort, Veronique curled her legs around Skylar and held her even more tightly, hips bucking up as she hit a sudden peak, her nectar expelling about over Skylar's fingers and palm. Skylar broke her lips free from Veronique's nip, a string of saliva connecting her tongue and the tip of it, and she looked up to Veronique with a wide grin. She slid her hand up and licked her fingers, "And here I thought the French had the most stamina of any lover in the world, guess I was wrong," she chimed in jest.

Veronique was still trying to full regain her breath, unused to such things, "I'm... hardly experienced. It's- it's not my fault," she said with a breathless laugh. Skylar climbed back up to meet their lips together in a deep, but quick smooch.

"Fair enough," she whispered, "but it's my turn now."

Veronique seemed to agree entirely, and suddenly flipped herself on top of Skylar, pinning her shoulders against the mattress, "Careful what you wish for, Englisher," she cooed.

\---------------------------------------

Their romps continued late into the night. Veronique drowsily arose from the bed, tucked in warmly, and covered her eyes a bit as the bright morning sun illuminated the flat. Skylar was not beside her, but instead she'd left a small note, the back of which had a pink-lipsticked kiss mark upon it. Curiously, Veronique picked it up and read it,

"Had to run. Not exactly safe to stay in one place for long. Made you some breakfast and left you my telephone number below. Ring me up sometime, dear. Tell Sean I said hi." 

Sure enough, a tray of steaming food and a cup of hot coffee were left at the end table near the window. Veronique groggily got herself out of bed. Slipping on her panties, thrown by the bedside, she stood up and placed Skylar's note next to the telephone, then strolled to the end table, pulling up a chair and beginning her breakfast. As the rain-soaked streets of Paris seemed brightened and warm for the first time in a long time, she smiled, and let out a contented sigh of relief.


End file.
